


Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon pays a visit to an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> what is this GARBAGE im so so rr y

If you asked Brendon two years ago, he would have said he would have settled by now. A cute girl on his leg, a beer in his hand, finally happy. Behind his back, he had that; he had you. But you were taken from him… because of him. Granted, that’s what he thinks. Though the whole world weeped for him and the loss of his porcelain-skinned angel, chanting over and over that it wasn’t his fault, he sobs into his hands until he drifts off into peaceful comatose every night. That is the only time Brendon is truly happy now: when he was drinking himself to sleep. As he lay there, dreaming, not able to control his muscles, he finds peace in the death-like attribute that was given to him. He could see you again, live and well, still humming as you made breakfast. Brendon could feel the happiness once more whilst he dreamed of a better place. If he had it his way, he’d sleep forever.

Which is what he tried to do. After watching a day’s worth of films, he grabbed an entire bottle of prescription sleeping pills (assigned to him because of sleep paralysis and insomnia) and tried swallowing the whole thing. He barely scoffed down six before Dallon walked in. Later he confessed he just wanted to check up on him, granted Brendon hadn’t left his room all day. Brendon still questions what wouldn’t have happened if Dallon hadn’t rushed him to the hospital that night, what would have happened if he hadn’t had to endure three days worth of questioning doctors, publicists and routine IV’s. There would definitely be less rumors about his unstableness, that’s for sure. But the whole world was on a first name basis with Brendon, they all knew how much he loved his angel. Sometimes Brendon feels guilty for that night. The band was getting so much backlash that they had to go on hiatus until it all died down. Plus, Dallon and Spencer were worried Brendon would try it again after he left the hospital. They pestered him for about three weeks, never leaving his side. Fuck, even Dallon slept over, abandoning normal house just to make sure he didn’t do it again. In all truth, Brendon didn’t care anymore. He’d rather be drunk and alive than dead and, well, not having anything else to feel.

On February third of 2013, it was a bright, snowy spring Sunday. Cherry blossom petals coated the rivertops and the blue sky shined. You never would have expected that morning would change your life forever.

On this beautiful Sunday morning, Brendon’s porcelain-skinned angel was replying to a text message sent by Brendon himself while crossing an overpass. When you looked up, your eyes met the ones of a stray dog, or so witnesses say. You always loved animals, so you quickly dropped the phone, swerved your car, and promptly, drove yourself off of the overpass. The impact was so harsh it made the ugly, green shaded car flip over twice before it was stopped by another head-on collision with another driver. In the end, it cause a six-car pileup. There wasn’t a single survivor, or thats the way the story goes. The coroner end up giving a report of the death being, “quick and painless”, but Brendon knew better - there was no way that was an instant death. He remembered hearing the screams on the news. The fire grew largely, catching the branches of the cherry blossoms on fire and burning them to crisp, and melting all the snow into a horrible smelling dew. You were still alive when the car caught fight, you felt your flesh boil and ooze its way off your frame. Blood caught into your throat, preventing you from screaming. You couldn’t move your legs. It wasn’t like you were paralyzed, it was more or so that you didn’t have a body to manipulate. You still feel that pain, even if you were dead. You felt it in your heart. You felt glass shatter in your veins, you heard the sheer metal-against-metal noise in the distance, barely an echo. But there was one single thing that peaked out, making it all seem to… fade away.  
Brendon was knelt in front of a freshly polished, painted white gravestone. Your name was carved in it, along with some quote Brendon had picked out. You weren’t too fond of it, but fuck, it was on your gravestone. You could care less what was written on it. Around his eyes was pink and puffy. It was no doubt he had been crying. The whites of his eyes were also bloodshot, from lack of sleep or alcohol. Probably both. Around him, the day looked familiar. The snow fluttered around his frame, the pink cherry blossoms blowing in the bitter frostbite of the spring wind, the blue, partly-cloudy sky. It was a soothing looking day. You wondered why he was out here, visiting you, of all places. He set down a bouquet of what looked to be a dozen dark red roses. After a second of staring at your gravestone, he reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a white envelope and setting it down, resting it against the white gravestone and on top of the flowers. As you looked at the envelope, everything clicked into place. In Brendon’s scribbled handwriting, the front of the envelope read:

February 3rd 2014

One Year

The fire that screaming in your body, the glass that rattled in your ribcage as your breathed was one year old. You could hardly comprehend it. It seemed like yesterday. The loudest noise of sheer metal-against-metal still pounding in your head, as if you were there. You felt a sudden despair as you thought of him having to go through a year of feeling like that. The pills, the hospital trips, the fear that Spencer and Dallon had that they would lose another friend - it all started a year ago from today. You could hardly wrap your mind around it, but you didn’t have much time to think until a melody filled the dry, chilly air. A melody that made visions of sickness and sorrow flash through your mind. A melody that would play to make you feel better. A melody even you sung, that night when Brendon was trying to swallow those pills; a melody you remember screaming, trying to get him to notice somehow.

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,_

_You make me happy when skies are grey._

_You’ll never know, dear,_

_how much I love you;”_

You felt a sudden feeling of guiltiness. Trying to reach out to him, to tell him it’s okay, but to no avail. You didn’t have a body to manipulate; you were nothing but air. You should be the one singing to him, you told yourself; you should be comforting him. His voice faltered, shaking and cracking until he had to stop himself. He chest bounced as it took short breaths to try and push out a river of tears from his eyes. He covered his face, sobbing into them. It could have been a minute, or maybe even five; you couldn’t tell. You were screaming at him, telling him to notice you, but your scream turned into air, causing a breeze of wind to blow by, only slightly moving snowflakes. You heard one, deep inhale come from Brendon before he composed himself, letting it out weakly.

_"Please don’t take my sunshine away."_

 

* * *

 

The following morning the news headlines blared with a breaking story that “shocked the nation”. A rock star walked off the roof of a hotel in the middle of the night, ending his life tragically, right after leaving a note to his deceased girlfriend describing what could only be a final plea for forgiveness, a description of a love so strong you’d hardly ever see it in the world.

Dallon never left his room for the following week, not bothering to go into the office, not bothering to answer Spencer’s calls. He stayed there, emotionless, staring at the news report and rewinding it, watching it again until he knew everything they said. Spencer, who always overwhelmed himself with work when he was upset, worked his fingers to the bone filing paperwork to break up Panic! At The Disco once and for all. Brendon was the leader, and you were the glue; you held them together, and you took them apart.

Brendon’s final wish was for him to see you again, but to no avail. You saw no light when you passed. It was just a cold, empty dark tunnel.

And you guessed Brendon saw the light.


End file.
